


It's a Hard Life

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers, 2019 [28]
Category: Perfect Strangers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: [Season 5] In which it’s a dark and stormy night, and Larry is down in the dumps again.





	It's a Hard Life

**Author's Note:**

> This vignette was inspired by today’s Inktober prompt (“ride”) and takes place after the events of episode 5x13, “Because They’re Cousins,” and also references the events of episode 5x2, “Lie-Ability.”

The thunder was so loud that it could be heard even from the basement of the _Chronicle_ building. Larry flinched at the sound of it as he typed away at his desk, and even Gorpley, who has in a grumpy mood having to cover for Balki on his day off (he’d requested it in order to see his Myposian cousin Bartok off at the airport that day), paused for a moment to listen to it after finishing the day’s work.

“Nothing like a cold, stormy downpour,” he sneered.

“Mmm-hmm,” Larry returned, continuing to type.

“Have fun getting soaked in it, Appleton.”

Larry looked up now, giving Gorpley an unamused glance.

“I have absolutely no intentions of getting soaked in that storm,” he returned. “My Mustang can handle this weather just fine.”

“Ah, but it’s _not_ your Mustang anymore—or did you forget that you came here this morning on the bus?”

Larry froze, and then facepalmed. Of course… How could he have forgotten that he’d sold his cherished Mustang to pay for his sister Elaine’s Julliard tuition? It was truly ironic—he’d timed the purchase of the Mustang just a week before leaving Madison for Chicago just so that he could avoid sharing it with his eight other siblings—and, lo and behold, one of them had _still_ caused him to give it up.

“Like I said, Appleton, have fun getting soaked,” Gorpley smirked. “I am heading home in _my_ cozy, warm car—a car that no one can make me sell because I, unlike _some_ people, am not a patsy.”

Larry shot him a glare now.

“What did you say!?”

“You heard me, Appleton. You’re a living doormat—which is why you’re stuck down here in the basement, because you let Marshall and Walpole take credit for your best work. Bartokomous shows up on your doorstep four years ago, and you take him in like the fool you are—you’ve got yourself an idiot under your care, and you can’t even write him off on your taxes! And now, you’re going to have to wait in the rain for the bus like the rest of the peasants because you sold your car to give the money to your sister—and you can’t write that off, either! Oh, and your stewardess girlfriend—how often do you actually _see_ her? If she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight—and _you_ let her gallivant halfway around the world, serving drinks to first-class passengers who will be richer and more successful than you can ever hope to be! Are you _asking_ her to leave you for someone else? Because that’s what it looks like from over here. Face it, Appleton—you’re going nowhere fast, and you’re going to be left behind, because no one cares about a loser.”

Larry had stood up now, slamming his hands on his desk, but anything he had intended to say was preempted by a familiar voice clearing his throat.

“Appleton, I highly suggest you stop yourself now before you do something you regret,” Mr. Wainwright instructed. “And Gorpley, if you have nothing better to do than antagonize Appleton, perhaps it is in your best interest to leave.”

Larry stood frozen, silently thanking providence that he hadn’t reacted in front of his boss, who had descended down the staircase with Lydia.

Gorpley merely shrugged.

“Of course, Sir. I’m out of here.” He headed for the parking garage, pausing on his way out. “Have a nice bus trip, Appleton.”

Larry still didn’t move—he didn’t say anything until Wainwright addressed him again.

“Appleton—”

“Sir, I can explain everything—!”

“There’s no need to explain anything, Appleton. Gorpley has the unfortunate knack of pushing everyone’s buttons. It would just mean a lot of unpleasant HR fallout if you ended up retaliating, and you don’t need that right now.”

“…Yeah, that’s right. Thank you, Sir.”

“And anyway, Larry,” Lydia added. “I’m the resident advice columnist around here, not Sam—and if you want my advice, I would suggest not taking the advice of a divorced misanthrope who flinches at the word ‘alimony.’ Sam’s certainly gifted in the physical department, but that’s about all he has going for him.” She paused, noting the odd look that Larry and Wainwright were both giving her. “…Well, nevermind. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go frontload my advice column so that I can take my vacation next week.”

She headed off, leaving Wainwright looking back at Larry.

“Appleton, I suggest pulling yourself together and calling it a day; you’ve been working late for the last several days, and it’s already late tonight as it is.”

“But, Sir, I want this article to be perfect…!”

“Then get a good rest and give me your best tomorrow.”

“…Yes, Sir. Thank you,” he mumbled.

He waited a few minutes to collect himself after Wainwright left, gathered his things together, and, with a sigh, steeled himself and headed out into the downpour, running for the bus stop. He knew Lydia was right about Gorpley’s “advice” being worthless, and yet… Gorpley wasn’t wrong about everything, was he? Larry certainly did feel like he was trapped, going nowhere fast, as Gorpley had said. And perhaps he _was_ too nice for his own good—but was that really why he trapped? Reduced to an insignificant blip on the radar of the world?

He exhaled, feeling the familiar grip of depression and self-loathing closing its cold fingers around him. Flinching as the wind blew the rain into his face and lightning cracked overhead, he had to slow down as he made his way to the bus stop, hoping that the bus wasn’t running late. …Of course, knowing his luck, it would be par for the course if it _was_ late…

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a car pulling up alongside him bedside the curb, and stared, blankly, as the passenger window lowered, revealing Harriette. He blinked in surprise; he hadn’t seen much of Harriette since she was no longer the elevator operator and had moved up to the assistant director of security for the _Chronicle_ building.

“Larry!” she chided. “Get in here before you catch pneumonia!”

“I… But I’m soaked!” he said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and rain.

“_Larry_!” she said again, more sternly this time.

He got the message; he stumbled into the front passenger seat, shivering from having been out in the cold rain. He glanced into the mirror, sighing as he saw that he had been so soaked, the rain had taken the curls out of his hair, plastering his hair down instead; he also flinched as he saw the rain he was bringing in with him.

“I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t you even think about it,” she instructed.

Larry gave a glum nod.

“You alright?” Harriette continued, as she pulled back out into traffic. “Mr. Wainwright said that you having a bad day and could use a ride home; I’m glad I caught you before you got even more soaked.”

“Um… Well… You don’t need to hear my problems.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear them,” she pointed out.

Larry nodded and tried to undercut his woes, but the dam eventually burst and it all came out—what Gorpley had said, and how Larry couldn’t help but feel there was some truth to it. In spite of Lydia insisting otherwise.

“Alright, let’s handle this one at a time,” Harriette said. “First of all, Mr. Wainwright is no fool—he knows what’s been going on with Marshall and Walpole. He was an investigative reporter, too, you know—he’s collecting evidence, too.”

“Hmm…” Larry sighed.

“Now, as for the other things Gorpley brought up—you selling your car for your sister’s tuition, taking Balki in, and you letting Jennifer focus on her career, even if it means a lot of time apart… You’ve got to ask yourself why you made those choices. Let’s start with Balki.”

“Well… What was I supposed to do?” Larry asked. “He’s family, and he’d just traveled thousands of miles, needing a place to stay; I couldn’t turn him away! He didn’t know anything about life in a big city like Chicago; he wouldn’t have lasted without help!”

“And four years later, he’s still here.”

“He’s my best friend now,” Larry said. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

“Okay, and what about your sister?”

“Elaine and I were always the closest among the nine of us,” Larry explained. “She always looked up to me; she was just asking me to help her out of another jam. I didn’t want to sell my Mustang, but the thought of her dreams being crushed because she couldn’t afford to go to Julliard…” He shook his head.

“And Jennifer?” Harriette asked.

“Jennifer loves her work—she loves being able to travel around the world. And she’s always bringing me back souvenirs, so I know she’s still thinking of me, even when we’re apart. …I don’t like being separated like that, of course, but…” He sighed. “I love her, Harriette—I just want her to be happy, and I don’t want to be one of those jerkish boyfriends who tries to keep a girl on a leash. Even if… Even if I worry some first-class Casanova will try to sweep her off of her feet… I know that’s just my anxiety talking. I trust her—just like how she trusts me not to chase after other women when she’s not here.”

“So, it sounds to me that everything you did for Balki, Elaine, and Jennifer, you did out of love,” Harriette finished. “Gorpley is where he is today because of his selfishness. I know you say you have problems with being selfish, too, but you always put your loved ones first in the end, and that’s the difference between you and Gorpley. That’s why he’s the one divorced and alone, and why you’ve got something he doesn’t have.”

“He’s got money.”

“But you’ve got something better,” Harriette finished, as she pulled up to Caldwell Avenue. “And if you don’t believe me, go through those doors and see for yourself.”

Larry sighed again, but looked back at Harriette.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said. “And the talk.”

“Anytime, Larry. You hang in there, alright?”

Larry nodded, and made a mad dash from the car to the interior of the building. Still soaked, he trudged up to his floor, pausing as he heard Mary Anne’s voice coming from inside the apartment he shared with Balki.

He opened the door, seeing Mary Anne on the phone.

“Oh, Lydia, he just walked in!” she said, as she saw him. “Sure thing—thanks for letting us know! Bye!” She put the phone down and ran over to him, and Jennifer darted out of the kitchenette, also running over to him.

“Oh, Larry, you’re soaking…” Jennifer fretted. “You didn’t walk _all_ the way in the rain, did you!?”

“Harriette gave me a ride…”

“Well, thank goodness for that!” Mary Anne exclaimed, and she turned her head to Larry’s room. “We wanted to pick you up at work, but we had no idea how late you’d be working. Balki! Larry’s back!”

“Oh, Cousin!” Balki exclaimed, dashing out of Larry’s room with his pajamas and robe. “Here, I knew you would want to change, so I ironed these so they would be warm for you.”

“And I’ve made a summer corn soup,” Jennifer said. “I’ll get you some while you go change.”

“And I’ll go get my hairdryer,” Mary Anne added, leaving to do just that.

Somewhat dazed, Larry went to his room to change out of his wet clothes and into the dry pajamas, which were wonderfully warm. The robe was also warm, as well, and he was feeling much better when he went back to the living room. Mary Anne handed him the hairdryer, and after he’d finished with it and his curls were back in place, he handed it back to her with a heartfelt thanks and sat down on the couch, gratefully taking the soup from Jennifer.

The others were soon beside him on the couch as he drank the soup, which was both delicious and warming. He gave a quiet, contented sigh.

“Did Bartok make it out of Chicago alright?” he asked.

“He did,” Balki said. “His plane left just before the rain started. Oh, and Cousin Elaine called!”

“She did?”

“She was asking about you,” Mary Anne said. “And she wanted us to tell you that she got a 4.0 in her first semester—she says she couldn’t have done it without your financial assistance taking the stress off!”

Jennifer gave Larry’s arm a squeeze as he looked away for a moment.

“Elaine is really lucky to have you for a big brother,” she said. “We all know how much you loved that Mustang.”

“And I am lucky to have you for a cousin, too,” Balki added, sounding a little choked up. He managed a smile as Larry looked to him in concern. “Nothing is wrong,” he assured him. “I just had a lot to think about today when I saw Cousin Bartok off… When he arrived in Los Angeles, the roommate who took him in, he changed him—changed him from the person I knew, told him to forget his Myposian heritage and become this… dishonest person just to fit in with everyone else. But you… You took me in, and though you taught me to adjust to life here, you did not try to change me—you did not try to make me forget my heritage, even if you didn’t fully understand why I did the things I did. You let me be different—you let me be _me_. If I had not met you, I might have ended up like Cousin Bartok, forgetting who I really was just to fit in.”

The idea of Balki being anything other than himself was so unthinkable, and yet… could things have really turned out that way if Larry hadn’t stepped up and taken him in?

Larry placed the bowl of soup down on the coffee table and drew an arm around his cousin.

“I’m glad I could help you, Buddy,” he said, sincerely.

“You don’ know how much you have,” Balki insisted, hugging him tightly.

The girls soon joined in; ah, these group hugs—as frequent as they seemed to be, Larry cherished each and every one of them. And it was one of the few things that could successfully pry him free from that icy grip of depression and self-loathing.

And it was in that moment that he realized that this was what Harriette had been talking about. The choices he had made were ones he had made out of love—and he had received love in return.

Even if he was going nowhere fast, he wasn’t alone.

He could live with that—gladly.


End file.
